Jack, our mascot, is as real as can be. In fact, he was a rescued kitten born in a trailer park. He has come very far from his humble beginnings. How did a cat from the sticks make it to the big time? The unvarnished truth is because of his happy face markings, and he is the inspiration for our brand and name. It makes us happy just to look at him. Jack is a blue-collar cat. No paté out of a crystal dish for him. He has lived a rough and tumble life and has a few scars to prove it. We feel he is a fitting mascot given the nature of our rescue.
Jack posed for the Happy Jack Cats, Inc. logo. He and the rest of our Happy Jack Cats team thank Ward Hooper, a well-known Idaho artist, for creating such a great logo. Visit Ward's gallery at 745 W. Idaho Street in downtown Boise.
My life collided with Jack's about four years ago when I adopted him. At the time, I was associated with a rescue and adoption group that was planning to form a nonprofit. We needed a name and a logo. Then a crazy, little, rescued cow cat—black and white like a Holstein cow—came along and solved all our brand problems.
We needed a strong brand to insure name recognition. Enter our cow cat. His white face is marked with a huge, black, jack 'o lantern smile, and there is a black, upside triangle on his nose. We named him Jack and called our rescue Happy Jack Cats. Jack's big, silly smile radiates from our unique logo, and, as our mascot, he has lent his name and image to a rescue that has saved almost 2000 lives. His is the face of Happy Jack Cats, and much of our success can be credited to Jack's recognizable name and image. Through his involvement with the rescue, he has changed a lot of lives for the better: cats, adopters, volunteers, and other members of the community. He is truly a cat with influence.
Jack had to live someplace, so he came to live with me, despite my already having more than my fair share of cats. He moved right in and took over. Did Jack change my life for the better? He may have saved my life.
I am seventy-four years old and recently had open-heart surgery, and was bed-ridden during a long recovery. The surgery was a harrowing experience, and I’m lucky to be alive. It is common after such a surgery for a patient to suffer from depression, and I did, but Jack is the best antidepressant anyone could ask for. He spent his time on my bed, sleeping against me, snoring. I stroked and petted him, he purred and snuggled, and my blood pressure (in theory anyway), went down, and my mood improved. Jack was good medicine for me, and yes, he made my life not only better but also bearable. Jack isn’t all sweetness and light. He has a naughty streak.
Jack begs for food, starts fights, rolls in the dirt, ambushes his feline housemates, and bites my toes, but I love his bad-boy personality, and it makes me laugh. What could be better for someone with a failing heart, dealing with creeping old age, and clinical depression than laughing at crazy cat antics? Not a whole lot. It would be great if it could be said that Jack had saved me from a burning building, but he hasn't had the opportunity—yet. I'm sure he will, if it ever comes up. This cat makes me happy at a time when I could easily slip into thoughts of my own mortality. Jack, you're a pill, but I love you dearly!
